


Half-smile and the beauty

by MirtaF



Category: Big Bang (Band), GTOP (Band)
Genre: Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Grandmothers, Ice Cream, M/M, Twisted and Fluffy Feelings, rich kids
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-03-05
Updated: 2015-04-19
Packaged: 2018-01-14 16:49:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,096
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1273837
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MirtaF/pseuds/MirtaF
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In this wicked world nothing is sure, even the love of your last relative. Ji Yong experiences it in the cruelest way possible. He is to be deprived of his carefree life of a chaebol of KwonJi Group, and all of it thanks to his loving Granny that decides to teach her only inheritor a lesson or two.<br/>Little did she know that this revenge will actually result in an unexpected way, the one that she have never imagined nor would she ever aknowledge.<br/>It is enough to state that the results will be containing some fluffiness and some not-so-fluffy stuff as well. Well, at least for the Granny.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Carrot ice-cream

**Author's Note:**

> Ma! Yehet!  
> It is my first attempt on any kind of slash, so I am praying for some consideration from you, guys!
> 
> I have always wanted to try and my lovely not-so-VIPs firends finally put me into working. Therefore, I hope that you will all enjoy your ice-cream while reading.
> 
> betaed by my lovely Mika__mi <3
> 
> in consultation with an expert in the field of everything, Ola-hyung.

Chapter 1 "Carrot ice-cream"

 

Grandmother was taking it out on him again. Her frustrations, her stresses and her never-ending complaints to heavens for a grandson such as him. No wonder, heavens had been really unfair, taking away her glamorous son along with his third or fourth glamorous wife and their precious son. Heavens should have took him away and leave her with these serious, fawning people.

“Are you even listening to me, Jiyong-ah”? He nodded instinctively though he haven’t heard a fuck out of her speech. Still, he could pretty much predict that she started of with his behaviour and his nasty habit of breaking up with every girl she has found for him after exactly 88 days. Then, she probably said something about his useless majoring in music and finally she cursed at his father for playing around with a maid (i.e.: creating him in the meantime). It was like that almost every fucking time he would get a chance to speak to his grandmother.

“You are already 24 years old, you should start taking life more seriously and with respect,” her tone softened a little which attracted a bit of Jiyong’s attention, “I cannot let some irresponsible kid run my empire, can I”? Now, it was worrisome. She had never threatened his inheritance before, “What do you mean, Granny”? She smirked. Fuck, how much he hated her ignorant smirks and omniscient glares, “I need you to realize what is it like to have a job, to take responsibility for your own actions and to respect work, other people, money… Jiyong-ah, as you are now, I cannot pass you as my inheritor”.

The woman had to go crazy, “So, will you send me to work at one of the shops in a fucking pink apron or will you just kick me out so I need to survive on my own”? The look in Grandmother’s eyes was wicked and dangerous and she ruffled her eyebrows upon hearing the juicy word 'fuck' from her grandson's mouth. Jiyong immediately regretted his husky tone, he may have just suggested her which misery to put him in.

“That is, indeed, an interesting idea,” she stood up and walked up to the window. The office at the 31st floor had a beautiful view at Han River, it was especially enchanting at dawn, “but I am not as bad as you think, Jiyong-ah”.

“I rented an apartment for you, I am paying for it. I will even put each month some money on your account. An allowance from a loving Granny,” she sit herself back, “And you are starting to work at the café in suburbs tomorrow at 6 a.m.”.

It was no joke. The old hag was being serious.

He was fucked as hell.

 

* * *

 

 

This was one of the smallest shops owned by KwonJi Group and he was to work right there, along some boring, normal people. Moreover, he was not to get any credit for being Grandmother’s grandson. She made sure of that. Generally speaking, the chain of _Icey Café_ was a luxurious one but Grandmother made sure to set up a few shops in poorer districts of Seoul with lower prices. She and her sentiment for childhood times in countryside, really.

Jiyong looked around. The building in which the shop was located was just three-store tall and the ones around were the same height. He have never been in such a pitiful neighbourhood before. Even people passing by looked different from those on the main streets in Gangnam or Cheongdam. They looked pitiful but at the same time he felt a slight pinch in his heart, seeing them laughing loudly in the middle of the streets.

He looked at his watch, he still had 15 minutes before the start of his shift. He buckled a chain around his bicycle and wandered down the street.

He have never been to the suburbs before, never left the area of luxurious stores and fancy restaurants. All of his friends came from wealthy families and all of his girlfriends were daughters and granddaughters of the biggest companies. He had no connection to this world of nobodies. The plebs never seemed interesting enough. Yet, walking down this miserable street and feeling the scent of cheap cigarettes mixing with the air fresher than in Seoul’s centre, it made his heart drop a few millimetres. He checked on his watch, it was time to go to hell. He have never worked before on anything else other than his music so he doubted he could do good as a waiter.

He opened the door to the café. Of course, the idiotic sound of bells followed. How could they use it, still, in 21st century? A girl by the counter bounded her lips in an artificial smile and greeted him as a customer. He nodded, “I am a new worker here, actually, Kwon Jiyong”.

She went all flowers and rainbow. She went on mumbling about the petty salary they earn here and how the manager is the biggest jackass the world has ever seen, and so on, and so on. She even mentioned how desperate was she in her search for a boyfriend, seriously, she had to be seriously fucked up. After an hour he felt like dying from her non-stop talking. Nor was she useful (he failed to persuade her to show him around and stuff) nor was she a good companion (more than anything he hated way too talkative women). What a relief he felt when the bell at the doors rang, “Good morning, Mr. customer”! He put on a fake smile but his eyes brightened up sincerely. He was, right in that moment, so grateful to this person, whoever it was, for coming in and saving the day.

“One cheesecake with raspberries and two balls of carrot ice-cream,” the voice was low and harsh, yet it had some tenderness to it. Jiyong gasped at the man blankly. He was tall (holly shit, he was probably some good half-a-foot taller), dressed in simple skinny jeans and an oversized sweater. His face was not pretty, not according to the cannons of beauty that this crazy country has set up nowadays, not according to Jiyong. It was more of a handsome, plain face, however, partially covered with a mane of mint hair. Yes, mint as ice-cream.

Was this man not a customer, Jiyong would have burst out laughing.

“Here you go, Sir,” he was somehow able to operate the funny spoon and managed to place two big fat balls of carrot ice-cream in the waffle. The annoying girl brought the cheesecake, “Should I place it in the fridge for you, Boss”? Yes, she should. Should just go and disappear. Especially that the man will shortly leave and he will yet again be alone with her. She should just leave and put boss’ cheesecake in the damn fridge… Boss’?

Fuck.

“Boss”? Jiyong’s eyebrows soared to the top. The man smirked but it was not with contempt nor with any kind of diss. He was simply smiling with just half of his mouth. Pretty damn creepy, he must have admitted.


	2. Raspberry Cheesecake

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What is the biggest challange for the allmighty and flawless Jiyong? Recently it is definitely not to get into trouble, not to put himself under the scrutinizing eye of Mister Manager.  
> Thank God and all of the Forces of Nature for the widely-known fact (brought to all of us by k-dramas) that poor people are always kind geniuses ready to help the clumsy rich chaebols.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally managed to put myself together and finish this chapter. My wonderful Beta has been of great help and is entirely my fault that this comes so laaaaaaate.  
> Thanks for all the kudos and my first ever comment on the first chapter.  
> Please, look favorably upon this one too.  
> I hope that I can update soon.
> 
> All mistakes are mine and eventually overlooked by my Beta

Chapter 2 "Raspberry Cheesecake"

 

Mister Manager may have been kind of intriguing and at first he did seem to Jiyong to be a soft-hearted guy who loves raspberry cheesecake. It was only a misconception that the reality was eager to verify quickly. His first week working at _Icey Café_ has been filled with hellishness as Mister Manager provided him with an intensive and exhaustive training. He was a perfectionist and, apparently, while he was the manager of this shop, every worker had to turn themselves into perfectionist as well.

After just a week Mister Manager has officially made it all the way up to the top of Jiyong’s sworn enemies list.

Well, sure, he knew that he fucked up when he poured soya milk to cheesecake base, and when he formed an ice-cream ball with the diameter of 5 cm. Oh, and there was the time when he spilled milk foam on Mister Manager’s jacket and just dried it (the stain and the smell it left was quite easily imaginable, and so was the rage of Mister Manager). But, really, no wonder he was so helpless, he had never, in his entre lifetime, made a coffee for himself or made anything to eat, not to mention washing his cloths or ironing. He had always had someone to do it for him, be it a maid, a butler or one of these 88-days girlfriends.

There was only one way to stop the stream of angry glances and dissatisfied sighs coming from the boss – to learn how to properly do this job. And for this he needed help. The stock of this scarce resource happened to appear on his second day at the café. It was Wednesday and the annoying girl was not there. Instead of her, there was this assistant manager Woobin with all his 187 centimetres of his ridiculously lean posture and naïve eyes. With all his introvert “sorry’s” and all his shy “you’re doing it wrong’s”. And there was Jieun - another girl- not quite so annoying. She was exactly his type: petit, girly and loud but at the same time tomboyish and funny. They were there and not the annoying girl, and Jiyong was fucking happy about it. His joyfulness grew even more as he learnt that the two are more than willing to tutor him at scoop-making, customers-serving and avoiding troubles with Mister Manager. Maybe, just maybe, hell that his Granny planned for him wouldn’t be such a hell in the end?

 

Three days into the second week and Jiyong has successfully completed his full shift without any scolding from Mister Manager. Filled with pride and self-confidence he stepped out the dressing room, already in his regular cloths. Jieun was chatting with the annoying girl, Mister Manager was discussing something with Woobin. The latter must have seen the inquiring glance of Jiyong, he half-smiled and gestured towards the fridge. It was empty. The raspberry cheesecake that has been sitting there every day until the closing hour was nowhere to be found.

Jiyong couldn’t see Mister Manager’s face but he must have been furious. He couldn’t figure out, yet, what meaning did the cheesecake have but it must have been massive. Jieun said that Mister Manager has been always taking a slice after work, everyday since the shop has been set-up. She has been working with him the longest, yet even she was clueless as to the reason for his love for raspberry cheesecake.

And now his routine has been interrupted. The fridge was empty.

Jiyong saw his fists clenching slowly. Would he start a brawl because of a fucking cake? He didn’t. Ha patted Woobin’s shoulder, then he just left.

What.the.hell.

Mister Manager is, one way or another, a mystery for Jiyong. The man is cold, he doesn’t speak much, his glares carry a whiff of death, his voice startles you each and every time and he definitely must have an OCD of some sort. And still, Woobin and Jieun always try to make Jiyong believe that he is a great guy, friendly and loyal, and funny and they like him very much. A little bit unimaginable. Though, seeing him strolling lonely down the street, without the white plastic bag hanging from his hand, made Jiyong feel something close to compassion.

“Coming with us, Jiyong-ah”?

He turned away from the window. Jieun was smiling at him, putting on a blue coat. She looked kind of… strange. He has never met a girl who would put on a set consisted of a striped blouse, polka-dot skirt, checkered tights, a blue, knee-length coat and mint sneakers making it look so freaking good. All of the heiresses he knew wore the newest trends and the hottest labels and outfits prepared by personal stylists. Jieun had a different sense of fashion – one which, in normal circumstances, Jiyong would call crappy. Apparently, the crappy style suits well the poor people.

“Coming where,” he wondered if she was asking him out. It was possible, he knew that he was handsome, pretty, cute, whatever – he was exactly the way most girls liked their man to be.

“Oppa and I are going out to celebrate your success,” she laughed and while laughing she covered her mouth with a scarf (yeah, apart from all the ridiculous parts of her wardrobe she also had a scarf with floral pattern), “so it would be nice if you joined us”.

Fuck. It’s not a date, “Sure, I’m coming”.

The shop was closed, the annoying girl excused herself home and so the three headed slowly to the biggest street around there. It was the first time he would hang out with some commoners. The two of them lead the way, Jieun holding onto Woobin’s arm tightly. He could hear scraps of their conversation: “Oppa, this…”, “Oppa that…”. Why would she call him ‘oppa’, he was fucking older than Woobin and she called him by name.

“Oi, we’re here, the land of cheap soju,” Jieun was pointing at a small stall standing at the corner of the street, like the ones Jiyong had only seen in movies, “Here”? Woobin was already in and she just answered with a nod, following inside. What a petty place.

The odour of some old pals and alcohol ofdubious qualityhit him from the very entrance. Fuck, he desperately tried to shove his Prada leather jacket off and put in the asylum of his backpack. Fuck, there is no way this smell would come off. His favourite jacket was definitely wasted.


	3. Cheap Soju And Tobacco

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> On his quest of getting to know the mundane and ordinary way of living, Jiyong encounters many unexpected obstacles and challenges. One of them being to learn how to drink like poor, the other - how to dispose of some unwanted dead weight at night?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here goes chapter number three. Thank you for the kudos and for the comment. I apologize for a delay in the schedule.

 Another difference from his shiny world Jiyong has discovered that night was that the poorer you are, the better you can hold your liquor.

Woobin was drinking soju like water, chatting in the meantime with the old lady at the counter. He seemed more confident than at work, but maybe it was just the alcohol loosening his stiffness. Jiyong’s eyes wandered towards Jieun. She was gracefully sipping from her glass, looking around curiously. From time to time she would smash  her palm  on Woobin’s shoulder and whisper something to him. It was nice. He wanted a friend like that of his own. Fuck, they said it was to celebrate his success but here they were, all happy by themselves, not paying the slightest attention to him. He opened up another bottle.

“You sure, Jiyong-ah?” a small, white hand took the bottle away, “you don’t seem like a heavy drinker”. Right, the world tilted a little bit already, “I am not”. She smiled instead of just saying that she knew it. Damn it, she smiled. 

“Let’s go, hm?” Already? Seriously, and it was finally getting cosy and nice. He could be way over the rainbow just in a few minutes, forgetting all about this pitiful neighbourhood and the smell, just enjoying himself with Jieun. But she wanted to go. Sure, they should go. Oh,  go … Without Woobin. Oh, such  go then, “Sure, let’s get going”.

Jieun was not drunk, not at all. This meant she voluntarily left with him,  only him. Good, good. She was babbling. Some irrelevant stuff about her college friends, about her brother’s girlfriend and her two cats, one black and the other striped. Small talk, just getting to know each other. Hell right, they were strangers.

They have known each other for nine days and he doesn’t even know her family name yet. Well, maybe that is another difference: poor girls do not hook up with strangers? Such a waste, fucking waste.

“I will walk you home,” Jiyong stopped and pulled her by the wrist. She turned flustered. A momentary gaze. She burst out laughing, getting away his grab. She took his hand and walked on straight, “My home is this way”. They were walking like that, holding hands, but somehow he knew that it didn’t mean anything. The feeling was right: Jieun was treating both him and Woobin as her little brothers. Well, of course, at work she was the senior.

The chances of him getting any kind of kinked benefits from his acquaintance with Jieun seemed slim. He run the his contact list in his head. It was long enough since he last dated one of these plastic girls his Granny wanted for him. He could call one of them now and any would agree eagerly to come running to him, in a shiny, gold car with seatbelts fastening made of diamonds. He could do this anytime and fuck them, it was easy.

“That’s it, home, sweet home,” Jieun untangled their hands and faced Jiyong, smiling. 

“I will see you to the door”.

They were climbing the stairs in an almost silence. She was humming some catchy melody. He followed, he knew it but couldn’t name the song. Such a beautiful humming performance just for themselves.

She lives on the fourth floor, at the very end of the corridor. The power is out, she chuckles and reaches again for his hand, “Follow me, I know every hole and threshold”. 

“Jiyong-ah,” she says, looking at his face, “this place is a ruin and everything falls apart, doesn’t it?”. The stream of laughter follows, “I could rent something small and nice closer to the café but,” she reaches with her other hand to the wall, “I am okay here and I just realized that there's no point in wasting money for a flat when I have one already, don’t you think? Sure,” she yawns, “the electricity is out every other day and they often cut off hot water but it could be worse”.

Crap, this girl is freaking him out. Looking around for a minute he can say that living in here is like living in a haunted house. Such darkness, silence and humidity that just makes you think about all the movies in which a zombie, ghost or some other fucking creature comes out from a rundown place like this.

The corridor is long. Apart from their humming, the only sound comes from Jieun’s hand scrubbing the wall. 

Jiyong’s eyes accustom to darkness, he can now tell apart the wall and the doors to apartments, he can see where his feet stomps and he can observe Jieun’s nape. Even with greasy hair, cloths stained with milk and soju, she is freakin’ hot. The excitement builds up in him in no time. 

“Eun-i,” a hoarse, low voice emerges from the darkness. She stiffens, letting go of his hand. Her fingers reach up to straighten her bangs.

Jiyong knows it even before he comes forward so they can see him. Mister Manager is sitting on the dirty floor in front of Jieun’s apartment, calling her ‘Eun-i’. Mister Manager is waiting for her at 1 am, in sweatpants and a stretched grey hoodie. And she kneels down next to him and places a kiss on his cheek, “I am here, go home, it’s late”.

She isn’t talking to him. She says it to Mister Manager in a tender tone, patting his shoulder.

“Jiyong-ah, take him home, will you”?

He agrees silently, it’s okay, they are equal here. She retreats to her apartment, leaving the two of them behind on the dark corridor. They remain still for a moment. Fuck, how come a perfectly promising night ends in such a pathetic way?

He turns around, starts to walk away.

“Help me up”.

No ‘please’, no nothing. Just an order. He hesitates for a moment but ultimately something pushes him towards this freaking man. He  sticks his hand out and Mister Manager takes it gustily. He is up, towering over Jiyong with a contemptuous glance. No ‘thanks’, no nothing. He passes him by, walking unsteadily, supporting himself on the wall. 

Fuck, his kindness will lose him someday. He takes his arm and wraps it around his shoulders, putting his own around Mister Manager’s waist. The guy glares at him for a while but eventually gives in, probably too drunk and too tired to put up a fight. 

It takes them twenty fucking minutes to go down the stairs.

“Where do you live?”, he is frigging heavy, so hopefully he has a nice condo next to his girl. No response. No, fuck, no! He is asleep. And now what? Maybe he should just leave him on the street? Serves him right. He should do this. He could sit him next to a liquor store, it would look natural. Or maybe not. His damn face doesn’t look like a face of a drunkard and he definitely does not smell like one. Jiyong kneels down next to him. Fuck, will he even remember it the next day? 


	4. Strawberry Ice-cream

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All mistakes are mine and my Beta's. we are no natives, so, please, do forgive us >_

The next day Woobin is the man in charge. Day passed by quickly, without any specific complications. The only notable event was the sudden visit of a group of some damn girls who didn’t buy much but stayed in the shop long enough for Jiyong to analyse four different variants of a murder plan.

They were loud and girlish, had high, screeching voices and were talking bullshit: mesmerized by Woobin’s face, and hair, and eyebrows. Yes, even fucking eyebrows. Jiyong haven’t heard anything as ridiculous in his entire lifetime. How did they put it?  He has the sexiest set of bushy eyebrows  and Such eyebrows make me wanna go wild . Fuck, what do they teach these kids nowadays?

He felt the heat accumulating in him, wanting to release it by applying some fancy tortures on these thoughtless creatures. Especially one of them. She would appeared in his murderous fantasies every time he would hear her whispering to the other girls an indiscriminate comment on his collar bones. Fucking collar bones! It was about time they noticed that he was way better than Woobin, but why the heck collar bones?! He had a good ass, pretty face and the overall impression was actually admirable, yet this primitive commented on his collar bones. The world surely had become jacked up as hell. 

“Your first time, eh, Jiyong-ah”? Woobin smiled as he was polishing the glasses. First time what? Jiyong didn’t speak his thoughts out loud, waiting for the other man to continue, “It happens, you know, there are three high schools and four middle schools around here, so it happens”. He closes the cupboard, “they come, they eat strawberry ice-cream and glare at you, don’t be bothered, just do your job,” he leaned on the counter, smiling, “you can ask Manager, he is good at that, and believe me that today was nothing, the real fun comes when he is here. The girls go crazy”.

His laughter resonated inside the now-almost-empty café. It was already past his shift but he stayed late - he needed a moment alone with Jieun. 

And that moment came when they were already leaving. It was dark, the sun has set few minutes prior. Woobin offered to walk the annoying girl home so she would feel safe and as they were walking away he shouted  You take care of Jieun . No need telling him twice.

He will. He will not let her fucking go until she explains… everything. 

“I will walk you home”. She didn’t protest nor she acknowledged it, she only started walking down the street.

“So,” he starts, feeling a lump growing in his throat, “you and Mister Manager, are you, you know, an item”? He did it, he asked what he wanted to. Now, it could go bad, worse or disastrous. 

Instead, laughter follows. Jieun chuckled on his question and looked at him with amusement.

She remained silent and caught his hand into hers.  

“We are not,” the “ not any more” was there, silent, unspoken. But it was there, certainly. Fuck. Such a fucked up luck. 

He could be in serious trouble if he was to steal Mister Manager’s ex. She was playing with his fingers, intertwining them up with hers in many combinations.

“He…”, she paused, and tighten the grip over his hand, “he is a good guy, you know”.

“But he is messed up, you’ve seen his apartment, right? There is no freaking dust on anything, everything always perfectly folded and organized, everything so freaking neat that it scares the hell out of you sometimes”.

They started walking again, hands clasped tightly.

“I lied to you before,” she whispered, “I know the reason for the raspberry cheesecake. I don’t know why does he make such a secret out of it, really… It’s for his neighbour. She is a lovely elderly lady, she loves raspberry cheesecake. He said he would make it for her every day if he had time”.

She went mute for a few moments. Was this the whole story? Some old lady with which Mister Manager have been having a fucking what? Cheesecake affair? The guy must be really fucked up.

“This lady, she died quite a bit of time ago, seven months, I think”. She let out a short laugh, “But he stills takes the cheesecake everyday. He told me once that he gives it to the kittens this granny was feeding. Can you imagine, some stray kittens eating a raspberry cheesecake from  Icey Café everyday. Ridiculous”.

They reached her apartment, fortunately, this time around, the light was on. Standing in front of her door, Jiyong could feel the tension building up in his stomach, in every part of his body. He liked her, he wanted her. Now more than ever. He liked having things that once were someone else’s.

Fuck. The realization always comes late. Was he stupid or what? The girl basically told him that Mister Manager was still on her mind. And here he was, hoping to get laid. In his mind he run through his contacts list. He needed some female company.

“Good night then, I guess”. He made his move towards the direction opposite to Jieun.

“Don’t you want to come in”?

It was a shy question, he could hear her blush, he could feel her heart skipping the beat and racing. 

Nice. But of course, no girl could stay indifferent to his undeniable charms for long. The good-for-nothing father at least passed him this quality with the genes.

He smiled and followed her inside.

Jieun’s apartment had a kitchen, a bathroom and one room. Exactly what he’s expected. Stuffed animals everywhere, a guitar, a mess on the desk, and a fridge full of juice, milk and strawberry yoghurt. Even the unidentified daubs on the walls, colourful and chaotic, were something he expected to see. It was such a mishmash that somehow fit perfectly together.

Surrounded by this cosy atmosphere they sunk into blankets and pillows with cups of hot tea in their hands. It was the night of talking and laughing.

So they talked about each other’s pets, embarrassing stories from childhood, annoying neighbours and even more annoying families (okay, he might have skipped the part in which his Granny was the owner of KwonJi Group, thus owning every single one of the Icey Cafés ), they talked about the horny teenage girls that were coming to the shop and about Woobin’s eyebrows. Jieun also found them interesting, so apparently it was not only a thing of some immature girlish girls fucked up by the poor system of sexual education. Maybe bushy eyebrows was the new sexy? He glanced at the miserable lines above his eyes, should he get some treatment in the beauty saloon for his eyebrows to get bushy, wild and tempting? Perhaps.

The time flew by, they fell asleep, together, at the floor, tangled up in blankets and each other’s legs.

Jiyong woke up when it was still dark outside, he could see through the windows. He untangled himself and looked around. What was he looking for? Fuck. She invited him home, let him stay over and slept holding his hand and he was still freaking out, looking for any signs of Mister Manager in her apartment. What a fuck-up he was…

He shook his head and went out to the balcony. A stream of cold, fresh air hit him, pinching his cheeks. The soon lightened cigarette warmed up his hands and his chapped lips. 

Suddenly, he burst out laughing, dropping the cigarette. He was standing, barefoot, at 4 am on the balcony of a girl he knew for two weeks, freezing to death, wandering if she had a thing with the currently most hated by him person in the world. He was being ridiculous. And being ridiculous certainly needed an intervention of nicotine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Took me long enough to update this one, huh? Thanks for all the kudos and thank you Didoe84 for a comment, it sort of motivated me to get back to this story :)
> 
> I will try to post more often now :D  
> Please, let me know what you think about the story and feel free to make any suggestions about the plot or anything.


	5. Salty Caramel

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello~~
> 
> It took me long enough, but the chapter is finally on :) Don't know if there is still anybody following the stories but thanks for the kudos, it kept me going :) I hope to put out the next chapter soon :)
> 
> If possible, please, do enjoy and let me know if there is anything you would me do/change/implement in this fic :)

He sneaked out of Jieun’s apartment before she got up. It was still dark outside, a cold air tickling his cheeks when he strolled down the street.

 

He didn’t even know what to feel anymore. He had a great time, talking with her, laughing and just being together. But somehow the excitement and tickling sensation of infatuation has disappeared. Jieun was just too comfortable to be with. Her presence wasn’t creating any tension at all. It was like being with a guy friend.

 

He sighed. So much for the big and eternal love he was hoping to discover in this newly found world of poor people. After leaving in it for two weeks he realized that it wasn’t half bad. He still missed all of his expensive cloths and weekends spent on the beaches of Peru but he was very willing to learn how to live without it if it meant keeping this unexpected friendship he had found with Jieun and Woobin. They have just barely knew each other and still he felt closer to them than to any of his rich pals.

 

He made a mental note to thank his Granny for sending him down here, as he drew on another cigarette. The sun was starting to rise.

 

Five minutes to six, he could as well head to the café now, no point in going home for one hour. Woobin should be there soon anyway to open up and get the supply delivery.

 

The phone vibrated in his pocket. A message from Jieun. She thanked him for a great time, they have to repeat it someday and an apology – something that made him curious. It said  I will tell you about the manager later, it’s just… Nothing really, don’t worry about it . Well then, seems he would be getting a full backup story on Mister Manager soon. This information, for unknown reasons, brightened up his mood.

 

Far more light-hearted, Jiyong soon found himself in front of the café. There was Woobin fighting with the lock on the gate (it was quite a rusty lock so they would often have to battle for it to open up).

 

“Woobin-ah! Good to see you, good morning,” he patted the guy on his back and leaned on the wall next to him. 

 

“Good morning”.

 

Jiyong froze. This voice… It wasn’t Woobin’s. Definitely not. He turned his face to look at the man. Mister Manager was looking at him. And he was smiling. It was something to be noticed as Mister Manager wouldn’t smile that often. Jiyong had now came to a conclusion that it was such a waste for humanity. For Mister Manager’s smile was one of the finest he has ever seen. 

 

“Oh,” he straightened himself up, “I thought it was Woobin, thought you were taking another day off, boss. Sorry about that”.

 

He felt his legs shaking and suddenly the ground became somewhat less steady and firm underneath his feet. He wasn’t even sure if Mister Manager remembered anything at all from that other night but either way, Jiyong expected him to be furious about it.

 

“Not at all,” and there he goes again with smiling, this time, though, back to facing the gate with which he still had a problem, “I guess that the two of us can be easily confused from behind”...

 

The lock clicked and the gate opened. Mister Manager pulled the blinders up and opened the glass doors leading to the café, “come on in, Jiyong-ssi, since you are here this early, you can help me up and learn a few things about the morning duties”.

 

He didn’t seem mad at all, let alone furious.

 

The next hour flew by within an eye-blink. There was a tremendous amount of work to be done in the morning: cleaning, turning on all of the coffee machines, ice machines, checking the cash registers… A tremendous amount of work of which Jiyong has not been aware of before. He shook his head and chuckled. Damn this old hag. She was getting what she wanted from him, wasn’t she? Jiyong, to his surprise, was enjoying the surge of enlightenment about all of this ordinary world of peasants and people working eight hours shifts to make a living. 

 

He finished putting the cakes and other pastry on the shelves. It was ten minutes to seven. Jieun should be here soon and he felt a little bit anxious about it. He had no idea what kind of story was there, between her and Mister Manager. He glanced upon him. He had his apron tied around his waist. He had the sleeves of his black shirt rolled up the elbows. He had a calm expression on his face, yet he would twitch once in a while. It made Jiyong wonder if it was some kind of a nervous tick or it was the kind of face mister Manager made while humming in his head. 

 

“You are staring at me,” the said man rose his eyes to meet Jiyong’s gaze.

 

“Yes”.

 

He laughed, “good we agree on that,” he put down the cutlery he has been polishing and made his way towards Jiyong, “may I ask why”?

 

It was his turn to chuckle. He put away the napkins, now folded into neat flower-shaped sculptures, and came closer. He leant over the counter, “no particular reason. I was just curious as to why aren’t you mad at all about the other night”.

 

Mister Manager straightened up. He smiled again but this time his lips curved unnaturally, with no real emotion.

 

“I would rather not talk about it,” he turned away from Jiyong, occupied himself with the coffee machine, “if you don’t mind, that is”.

 

“I don’t,” now it was getting quite amusing for Jiyong, was the guy embarrassed about his little falling apart?

 

“But, if I were you, I would have been angry with a dude that left me drunk in the middle of the street like trash. God, I am angry with myself I’ve done it”...

 

The silence fell over the two man. Suddenly, Jiyong wished he hadn’t said anything. Mister Manager still didn’t seem angry, but his face changed. He slowly closed his eyes and sighed. The moment lasted a little while longer than a moment should have lasted. Mister Manager walked up to the table on the far right, he sat down and faced the window. Jiyong remained in the same spot he had been occupying for a few last minutes, as if he was glued to the floor there. The rays of the rising sun started to break into the interior of the café. The light made Jiyong wince a little, he shut his eyes for a second. Mister Manager, on the other hand, was facing the brightness head on.

 

Only now did Jiyong noticed some grey hair on Mister Manager’s nape, and small wrinkles circling his eyes, and the pulsating veins on his hands. From afar, or looked at inattentively, Mister Manager seemed like a vigorous, young man. Now, having just an hour and a half of more thorough observation time, Jiyong has seen him from a different perspective.

 

“So that’s what had happened, huh”?

 

“Yeah,” Jiyong still wasn’t sure if Mister Manager was enraged or not, “I didn’t know your address and you dozed off and”...

 

Mister Manager looked up inquisitively, “and”?

 

“And I might have been a little pissed off”.

 

“Pissed off at me, you mean”.

 

“Precisely”.

 

“May I,” he chuckled and in an instant Jiyong hated how he couldn’t bring himself to hate this ironic smirk on Mister Manager’s lips, “ask for the cause of your ill feeling towards me? Is it that you don’t like me in general, which I am pretty sure you don’t, or was it something I had done on that day particularly that got you so… mad”?

 

Crap. Holly crap.

 

“I…”

 

Jiyong found himself at lack of words. What exactly was he supposed to say? That he was jealous of Jieun? That for the first time in his life there was a girl that wouldn’t toss everything aside for him? That he hated him being omnipresent in every moment of this lowlife ordeal?

 

“I thought, at that time, you were involved romantically with Jieun,” he spoke after a haste assessment of  the up- and downsides of each and every of his options, “and I seemed to be a little bit infatuated with her, at that time. That’s why”.

 

Mister Manager was standing again. Jiyong could see his face now, yet he couldn’t figure out what was going on in his mind. Was he amused? Angry? Disgusted? He couldn’t quite stand the tension that suddenly arose in the room, he picked up a few glasses and started polishing them.

 

“That… that,” Mister Manager sounded most definitely amused, most definitely, “that is, I must admit, quite unexpected”.  

 

That comment was the last of their conversation, as a moment after the words had left Manager’s mouth, the annoying girl rushed into the café, greeting them with a loud, cheerful voice. 

 

The rest of the day was hectic. There was not even one minute without a customer coming into the shop, not one minute to rest. Let alone  a minute to manage to grab Mister Manager and continue the talk where they have left it. At two o’clock Jieun and Woobin came for their afternoon shift. The annoying girl was staying for some extra hours - it was Jiyong and Mister Manager finishing their shift together.

 

“I was to tell you all about,” she motioned with her head towards Mister Manager, “I have a few minutes before I start, ok”?

 

He forgot all about it. But he followed her to the back of the café, as the temptation of gaining the knowledge of some dirty secrets of the mysterious man was… It was too big for Jiyong to handle.

 

“So”...

 

She stopped, bit her lips, took a deep breath.

 

“I probably shouldn’t be telling you this… No, don’t give me this look, I shouldn’t be. Should I? Whatever… Actually,” Jieun faced him at last and put on a sad smile, “there is not much to be said. The cheesecake… I lied about an old lady. There was no old lady, there are no cats”.

 

She leant on the wall behind them and slowly sat down. Jiyong, did the same. 

 

“You don’t have to tell me, it’s alright”...

 

“No,” she let out a short laugh, “you are the kind of guy who knows a lot of girls, right? You seem like one…,” he rose his eyebrows. Now, was Jieun trying to offend him, to call him a playboy and a guy not worth of trusting? He waited for her to continue, “he could use a girl, a female companion, I think”.

 

“You see, he got married young, he wasn’t even out of college. They were both twenty two, in love, embracing on the new life together,” she smiled at him brightly again, “load of crap, if you ask me, huh”?

 

Jiyong nodded. An absolute load of crap. Though… His dad got married to a sensible women chosen by his parents but still he then went and had an affair with his first love. He once told him that only then he was truly happy, truly in love.

 

“Anyway, she worked here. She was my best friend. I guarded her secrets, she helped me out with my dates, and so on… So, when I saw her with another man”...

 

Oh, so it was going this way.

 

“I kept my mouth shut. The next thing I know, a few weeks later, is the manager coming drunk to work, in the middle of the day, the shop is packed. I did manage to get him out even before he could do something stupid. And there he goes: she was gone, took all of their savings, left signed divorce papers on the table, with a piece of raspberry cheesecake he had brought her the previous night. End of the story”.

 

“When did this happen”?

 

“Three years ago, almost. Do you think you could set him up on a date, huh? He really needs to forget her already… The other night, the night he got so wasted, it was their anniversary. I know, I know what you are thinking but we have never been a couple. Still, we are friends and I want him to get better”.

 

“I guess I could try”.

 

She gave him yet another smile and went back to work. Just like that Jiyong found himself with a heavy heart occupied with a newly born belief that women are just not capable of humanity. If they were, Mister Manager wouldn’t be buying fucking cheesecake for a ghost everyday, his Grandma wouldn’t be taking pleasure in torturing her last living heir and he himself might have gotten married by now. However, the world has proven itself over and over again not be such a nice place. No, in fact, world is a screwed place.

 

He emerged to the café. Mister Manager was still behind the counter, serving a happy smiling family some brownies with salty caramel icing. He was smiling himself, though it must have not been the case down there underneath the mask of the employee of the month for the last thirty two months, huh? So what Jieun wanted him to achieve, basically, was to get Mister Manager laid. Won’t be too difficult, Jiyong had a lot of friends who could help. One text message and they should be waiting in a nice club, waiting ready to give Jiyong whatever he needed, even if he wasn’t the direct beneficent this time. Objectively speaking, Mister Manager was a good-looking man, so there should be little, if any, problem with him getting the ladies (especially the kind of ladies Jiyong called over to the bar) queued up for him.

  
“Boss,” he cut in before the man could start on taking another order. Mister Manager came over, giving Jiyong an inquiring look, “we both end our shift now, don’t we? What would you say for having a drink with me”?


End file.
